She Saw Destruction (and She Thought it was Beautiful)
by GillyTweed
Summary: As long as she lived, Clarke would hold her up. She would never let her fall.


Pairing: Clexa

Rating: Children be Wary (K+)

Notes: A sort of sequel to She is a Force of Nature. Takes place in the same time frame, but is from Clarkes point of view.

Clarke had seen her on the battle field. She had been a whirlwind, a storm of blades and fury, with the snarling face of death upon her features. She had seen Lexa as The Commander, and she thought she was beautiful. Her blades had slashed and rang with the impending demise of their victims and clang with the disappointment as they were blocked and denied their prey. They growled along with their owner as the battle was fought strike after strike as they forged along, an unstoppable force. Clarke had seen the destruction wrought by The Commander, and she thought it was beautiful.

Clarke had watched from behind walls of warriors, atop the highest hill that could be found near the deadly field. She watched as war was waged, as blood splattered the field. She watched the destruction The Commander wrought, and the destruction wrought on The Commander. The battle was long, arduous. Wearing down the immovable object that was Lexa Kom Trikru, creating cracks upon her surface, where black blood dripped and fell, mixing with the red spilled from other mortals on the iron rich soil. Only when the last opponent fell, only when it was over, did The Commander fall to her knees, spent and ravaged by the blades of lesser warriors, but alive.

Her warriors brought her to the camp, groaning and swallowing whimper after whimper, rushing her to the Healers tent, black staining their hands all the while. They laid her on a long wooden table, her head cushioned by a sacrificed jacket that was much too blood stained to be saved. Clarke helped to remove the layers of armour and leather, revealing cuts, welling black blood, bruises, blackening from the great impacts she'd suffered. Black, black and more black. Eventually, each layer was stripped away leaving only enough to preserve modesty; leaving The Commander vulnerable, small and shivering in the cool night air.

The warriors started to talk in harsh, fast, Trigdesleng, worry laced their voices. Nyko hovered at her elbow, unsure of where to begin. Black continued to stain the table, inching slowly toward the edges. A barely audible whimper snapped the blonde out of her own shock and uncertainty, catapulting her into action.

"You three, out. There are too many people in here. Nyko, I'll need your help. Send someone for clean clothes, a lot of water, needle and thread, and several heated daggers. We need to close the wounds that are bleeding the most heavily before we can think about anything else."

As the others moved to do as commanded, Clarke turned back to her patient on the table. She was a doctor and she refused to lose the one good thing that had come from being flung to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself. Stepping over to the table she examined the other girl, but before she could touch her a violent shiver wracked up the brunette's body, seizing the muscles, twisting them, tearing open wounds to pour new, fresh blood onto the table. She knew holding a person down during a seizure was a terrible idea but Lexa couldn't afford to lose anymore blood. Both she and Nyko held her to the table, trying to minimize movement as she spasmed. Despite being only a few short seconds, Clarke waited with baited breath for the girl to relax. Soon the convulsing ceased, leaving Lexa breathing raggedly, eyes tightly closed.

Removing their hands, Nyko and Clarke exchanged a look. She was in too much pain to work on quickly. The elder healer handed Clarke a small vial of cloudy liquid from his satchel.

"General anesthetic?"

She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The large man nodded, looking solemn. The blonde nodded in agreement, knowing it would save Lexa a world of agony. Kneeling beside the table, she placed a hand on Lexa's forehead. The skin was hot and clammy, feverish from the trauma endured. All traces of The Commanders fury and destruction had been purged through blood, leaving a small shivering wreck of a girl to be sewn back together. Leaning close, Clarke spoke softly, hoping for a response.

"Lex, can you hear me?"

Another small shiver rattled through Lexa's torso, before her head turned agonizingly slow towards her voice. The brunette's eyelids fluttered slightly, a vain attempt to open them. Clarke stroked Lexa's blood soaked locks, stringy and clumped together by blood, in a small attempt to calm. Another seizure could mean the end.

"Alright, I'm going to have to lift you so you can drink this."

She lifted the small vial up to Lexa's sight line, the contents sloshing softly in its glass prison.

"It's an anesthetic that will hopefully make this less unpleasant."

Her only response was a shivering nod delivered with a wince. Standing, Clarke breathed again to settle her nerves. She hoped beyond hope that the anesthetic would work without any complications. Seeing Lexa laid bare on a table disturbed Clarke to her very core. It felt revealing, intimate and wrong seeing her this way. The sight made her heart clench in pain but also made her more determined to save her; to return her to the glorious figure Clarke had seen decimating her enemies in the name of her people. A figure of power, beauty and rage, channeled into an unstoppable force that had the ability to build and nurture, raise civilizations from the ground and forge alliances strong enough to halt wars in their tracks. A figure with the ability to slaughter and decimate any threat to those she brought under her protection. She held the World, and the World couldn't afford her passing. Clarke couldn't afford her passing.

With a gentle hand, she cradled Lexa's shoulders, she lifted, bringing the brunette to lean against her front. The older girl's head slumped forward, much to exhausted to support herself. Another gentle lift brought Lexa's head to be supported by the blonde's shoulder. She lifted the vial carefully after uncorking it with her teeth. The cool glass of the vial touched fevered lips, and was tilted to allow the liquid to pour out. Clarke watched as Lexa's throat worked to swallow, being careful to pour slowly.

Clarke needed Lexa to live, not just for the stability of humanity, but for the stability of Clarke herself. She had lost so much, her father, her home in the sky, Finn, so many of her friends. The blonde knew that she wouldn't be able to handle another loss such as those. Clarke needed the support of the immovable object known as Lexa; she needed the push of the unstoppable force known as The Commander. She needed Lexa Kom Trikru, The Commander, and as long as she lived, Clarke would hold her up. She would never let her fall.

Endnote: If you want to talk fanfic, feel free to find me at my Tumblr of the same name, Gillytweed.


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